ian fleming.casino royale-第23部分

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of　。　。　。　er　。　。　。　encouragement。'　He　rattled　the　harsh　cane　on　the　floor。
　So　that　was　the　score；　thought　Bond；　with　a　final　sinking　of　the　heart。　The　'unknown　destination'　would　be　under　the　ground　or　under　the　sea；　or　perhaps；　more　simply；　under　the　crashed　Bentley。　Well；　if　he　had　to　die　anyway；　he　might　as　well　try　it　the　hard　way。　He　had　no　hope　that　Mathis　or　Leiter　would　get　to　him　in　time；　but　at　least　there　was　a　chance　that　they　would　catch　up　with　Le　Chiffre　before　he　could　get　away。　It　must　be　getting　on　for　seven。　The　car　might　have　been　found　by　now。　It　was　a　choice　of　evils；　but　the　longer　Le　Chiffre　continued　the　torture　the　more　likely　he　would　be　revenged。
　Bond　lifted　his　head　and　looked　Le　Chiffre　in　the　eyes。
　The　china　of　the　whites　was　now　veined　with　red。　It　was　like　looking　at　two　blackcurrants　poached　in　blood。　The　rest　of　the　wide　face　was　yellowish　except　where　a　thick　black　stubble　covered　the　moist　skin。　The　upward　edges　of　black　coffee　at　the　corners　of　the　mouth　gave　his　expression　a　false　smile　and　the　whole　face　was　faintly　striped　by　the　light　through　the　Venetian　blinds。
　'No；'　he　said　flatly；　'。　。　。　you　。　。　。'
　Le　Chiffre　grunted　and　set　to　work　again　with　savage　fury。　Occasionally　he　snarled　like　a　wild　beast。
　After　ten　minutes　Bond　had　fainted；　blessedly。
　Le　Chiffre　at　once　stopped。　He　wiped　some　sweat　from　his　face　with　a　circular　motion　of　his　disengaged　hand。　Then　he　looked　at　his　watch　and　seemed　to　make　up　his　mind。
　He　got　up　and　stood　behind　the　inert；　dripping　body。　There　was　no　colour　in　Bond's　face　or　anywhere　on　his　body　above　the　waist。　There　was　a　faint　flutter　of　his　skin　above　the　heart。　Otherwise　he　might　have　been　dead。
　Le　Chiffre　seized　Bond's　ears　and　harshly　twisted　them。　Then　he　leant　forward　and　slapped　his　cheeks　hard　several　times。　Bond's　head　rolled　from　side　to　side　with　each　blow。　Slowly　his　breathing　became　deeper。　An　animal　groan　came　from　his　lolling　mouth。
　Le　Chiffre　took　a　glass　of　coffee　and　poured　some　into　Bond's　mouth　and　threw　the　rest　in　his　face。　Bond's　eyes　slowly　opened。
　Le　Chiffre　returned　to　his　chair　and　waited。　He　lit　a　cigarette　and　contemplated　the　spattered　pool　of　blood　on　the　floor　beneath　the　inert　body　opposite。
　Bond　groaned　again　pitifully。　It　was　an　inhuman　sound。　His　eyes　opened　and　he　gazed　dully　at　his　torturer。
　Le　Chiffre　spoke。
　'That　is　all；　Bond。　We　will　now　finish　with　you。　You　understand？　Not　kill　you；　but　finish　with　you。　And　then　we　will　have　in　the　girl　and　see　if　something　can　be　got　out　of　the　remains　of　the　two　of　you。'
　He　reached　towards　the　table。
　'Say　good…bye　to　it；　Bond。'
　
　
　CHAPTER　18　…　A　CRAG…LIKE　FACE
　It　was　extraordinary　to　hear　the　third　voice。　The　hour's　ritual　had　only　demanded　a　duologue　against　the　horrible　noise　of　the　torture。　Bond's　dimmed　senses　hardly　took　it　in。　Then　suddenly　he　was　half…way　back　to　consciousness。　He　found　he　could　see　and　hear　again。　He　could　hear　the　dead　silence　after　the　one　quiet　word　from　the　doorway。　He　could　see　Le　Chiffre's　head　slowly　e　up　and　the　expression　of　blank　astonishment；　of　innocent　amazement；　slowly　give　way　to　fear。
　'Shtop；'　had　said　the　voice；　quietly。
　Bond　heard　slow　steps　approaching　behind　his　chair。
　'Dhrop　it；'　said　the　voice。
　Bond　saw　Le　Chiffre's　hand　open　obediently　and　the　knife　fall　with　a　clatter　to　the　floor。
　He　tried　desperately　to　read　into　Le　Chiffre's　face　what　was　happening　behind　him；　but　all　he　saw　was　blind　inprehension　and　terror。　Le　Chiffre's　mouth　worked；　but　only　a　high…pitched　'eek'　came　from　it。　His　heavy　cheeks　trembled　as　he　tried　to　collect　enough　saliva　in　his　mouth　to　say　something；　ask　something。　His　hands　fluttered　vaguely　in　his　lap。　One　of　them　made　a　slight　movement　towards　his　pocket；　but　instantly　fell　back。　His　round　staring　eyes　had　lowered　for　a　split　second　and　Bond　guessed　there　was　a　gun　trained　on　him。
　There　was　a　moment's　silence。
　'SMERSH。'
　The　word　came　almost　with　a　sigh。　It　came　with　a　downward　cadence　as　if　nothing　else　had　to　be　said。　It　was　the　final　explanation。　The　last　word　of　all。
　'No；'　said　Le　Chiffre。　'No。　I　。　。　。'　His　voice　tailed　off。
　Perhaps　he　was　going　to　explain；　to　apologize；　but　what　he　must　have　seen　in　the　other's　face　made　it　all　useless。
　'Your　two　men。　Both　dead。　You　are　a　fool　and　a　thief　and　a　traitor。　I　have　been　sent　from　the　Soviet　Union　to　eliminate　you。　You　are　fortunate　that　I　have　only　time　to　shoot　you。　If　it　was　possible；　I　was　instructed　that　you　should　die　most　painfully。　We　cannot　see　the　end　of　the　trouble　you　have　caused。'
　The　thick　voice　stopped。　There　was　silence　in　the　room　save　for　the　rasping　breath　of　Le　Chiffre。
　Somewhere　outside　a　bird　began　to　sing　and　there　were　other　small　noises　from　the　awakening　countryside。　The　bands　of　sunlight　were　stronger　and　the　sweat　on　Le　Chiffre's　face　glistened　brightly。
　'Do　you　plead　guilty？'
　Bond　wrestled　with　his　consciousness。　He　screwed　up　his　eyes　and　tried　to　shake　his　head　to　clear　it；　but　his　whole　nervous　system　was　numbed　and　no　message　was　transmitted　to　his　muscles。　He　could　just　keep　his　focus　on　the　great　pale　face　in　front　of　him　and　on　its　bulging　eyes。
　A　thin　string　of　saliva　crept　from　the　open　mouth　and　hung　down　from　the　chin。
　'Yes；'　said　the　mouth。
　There　was　a　sharp　'phut'；　no　louder　than　a　bubble　of　air　escaping　from　a　tube　of　toothpaste。　No　other　noise　at　all；　and　suddenly　Le　Chiffre　had　grown　another　eye；　a　third　eye　on　a　level　with　the　other　two；　right　where　the　thick　nose　started　to　jut　out　below　the　forehead。　It　was　a　small　black　eye；　without　eyelashes　or　eyebrows。
　For　a　second　the　three　eyes　looked　out　across　the　room　and　then　the　whole　face　seemed　to　slip　and　go　down　on　one　knee。　The　two　outer　eyes　turned　trembling　up　towards　the　ceiling。　Then　the　heavy　head　fell　sideways　and　the　right　shoulder　and　finally　the　whole　upper　part　of　the　body　lurched　over　the　arm　of　the　chair　as　if　Le　Chiffre　were　going　to　be　sick。　But　there　was　only　a　short　rattle　of　his　heels　on　the　ground　and　then　no　other　movement。
　The　tall　back　of　the　chair　looked　impassively　out　across　the　dead　body　in　its　arms。
　There　was　a　faint　movement　behind　Bond。　A　hand　came　from　behind　and　grasped　his　chin　and　pulled　it　back。
　For　a　moment　Bond　looked　up　into　two　glittering　eyes　behind　a　narrow　black　mask。　There　was　the　impression　of　a　crag…like　face　under　a　hat…brim；　the　collar　of　a　fawn　mackintosh。　He　could　take　in　nothing　more　before　his　head　was　pushed　down　again。
　'You　are　fortunate；'　said　the　voice。　'I　have　no　orders　to　kill　you。　Your　life　has　been　saved　twice　in　one　day。　But　you　can　tell　your　organization　that　SMERSH　is　only　merciful　by　chance　or　by　mistake。　In　your　case　you　were　saved　first　by　chance　and　now　by　mistake；　for　I　should　have　had　orders　to　kill　any　foreign　spies　who　were　hanging　round　this　traitor　like　flies　round　a　dog's　mess。
　'But　I　shall　leave　you　my　visiting…card。　You　are　a　gambler。　You　play　at　cards。　One　day　perhaps　you　will　play　against　one　of　us。　It　would　be　well　that　you　should　be　known　as　a　spy。'
　Steps　moved　round　to　behind　Bond's　right　shoulder。　There　was　the　click　of　a　knife　opening。　An　arm　in　some　grey　material　came　into　Bond's　line　of　vision。　A　broad　hairy　hand　emerging　from　a　dirty　white　shirt…cuff　was　holding　a　thin　stiletto　like　a　fountain…pen。　It　poised　for　a　moment　above　the　back　of　Bond's　right　hand；　immovably　bound　with　flex　to　the　arm　of　the　chair。　The　point　of　the　stiletto　executed　three　quick　straight　slashes。　A　fourth　slash　crossed　them　where　they　ended；　just　short　of　the　knuckles。　Blood　in　the　shape　of　an　inverted　'M'　welled　out　and　slowly　started　to　drip　on　to　the　floor。
　The　pain　was　nothing　to　what　Bond　was　already　suffering；　but　it　was　enough　to　plunge　him　again　into　unconsciousness。
　The　steps　moved　quietly　away　across　the　room。　The　door　was　softly　closed。
　In　the　silence；　the　cheerful　small　sounds　of　the　summer's　day　crept　through　the　closed　window。　High　on　the　left…hand　wall　hung　two　small　patches　of　pink　light。　They　were　reflections　cast　upwards　from　the　floor　by　the　zebra　stripes　of　June　sunshine；　cast　upwards　from　two　separate　pools　of　blood　a　few　feet　apart。
　As　the　day　pro